After all the delays in updating 'For Better, For Worse', I swore I wouldn't post another story until it had been completely written. But Loopstagirl decided to have her birthday today, so here I go again! This is much shorter and lighter than the last one - I just hope Jeff and the boys cooperate and that real life doesn't throw up any more obstacles...

Happy Birthday Loopsta! This doesn't go even the tiniest way towards repaying you for all the support you've given me this last year.

Chapter One

It was good to finally be home, Jeff Tracy thought as he brought his car to a halt in the garage, rolling his tired and aching shoulders before reaching into the back to grab his case. It had been a while since he'd last been in Kansas - his company was in the throes of a serious expansion into the Far East and he'd been travelling around over there for the past two months. He wasn't actually supposed to arrive until the following afternoon, and part of him felt bad for spoiling the welcome home celebration he knew his family would have been planning for him. But the temptation to get back sooner rather than later had been too much - and what better reason to test out the modifications Brains had made to his jet? The journey time had been cut by half as he'd pushed the engines to their new limits. Probably a tougher test than Brains would have liked, Jeff thought with a smile, but then he was an Air Force man - and a Tracy! - so what did the genius expect? Anyway, it wasn't as though he was going to allow anyone else to try the new thrusters out, not when secrecy was so important. After all, this was no potential commercial enterprise, this was part of... the plan. He still couldn't quite believe he was going through with it, but he'd come too far to back out now.

Slipping through the side door and into the house, Jeff paused. He'd half-hoped someone would be up to welcome him home, but it was nearly 2am and naturally the house was quiet. Quieter even than it had been a few years ago, with almost all his sons grown-up and leading their own lives. Only Gordon and Alan remained, although the former was counting down the weeks until he left for Florida, where his Olympic training schedule would begin in earnest. Soon the house would be practically deserted and Jeff wondered if he should consider downsizing. Then again, it would be good to have somewhere big enough for all the boys to return to. Virgil was home right now, in fact, his second year at Denver completed. He'd spent the last few weeks working at his father's Kansas factory before heading off on a road trip with some friends. It was another reason why Jeff was so keen to get home - he'd only get a couple of days with his middle son as it was.

Bed or coffee? Jeff wondered. He yawned, half-turned to the stairs, but then the coffee-addict won out and he headed towards the kitchen. It would have to be decaf at this time of night, but still, it was better than nothing.

The large slice of chocolate cake next to the makings of a mug of hot chocolate made him smile. Bless his mother, she must have guessed he'd move heaven and earth to get home early. Two minutes later and the drink was prepared, the cake demolished. Jeff turned off the light and was about to head up to his room when the sound of gravel crunching outside made him pause.

There it was again. Louder now, but not the usual careless sound that someone with a genuine reason to be wandering around outside the Tracy house would make. No, this person, whoever it might be, was moving quietly, clearly making sure they weren't heard.

Jeff placed his mug down and moved towards the door. He supposed it was possible that it was a son, returning home after some illicit rendezvous. Despite his annoyance, he had to smile. After all, he'd been a teenager himself once and he recalled several such occasions. Most times he'd made it back to his room without being discovered, but now and again his mother had caught him out and boy, had he regretted it. The woman certainly knew how to give a lecture! If anything, with five boys to practise on, her skills had improved in that department over the years. No wonder the boy was moving so quietly.

Any second now, he thought, the back light would go on and he'd be able to see who it was. Maybe he'd test out his own parenting skills - his boys might tease that he had nothing on Grandma when it came to discipline, but he could try...

But there was no light. No one inserted a key into the door, either. Instead there was a hesitant shuffling outside, the door handle moved up and down a couple of times, then the footsteps carried on around the side of the house.

So it wasn't one of his boys. Typical, Jeff thought. He'd made it safely home after travelling halfway round the world only to run into trouble in his own backyard. He hesitated, wondering whether to wake the sleepers upstairs, or even to call the police, then decided against it. He'd investigate himself first. After all, he was the head of the family and its protector - it was his job and he'd never been one to abdicate his responsibilities. Anyway, who knew what might happen in the time it took for help to arrive.

He quietly opened the back door and slipped outside. Still no light went on and he guessed that it had been disabled so as not to draw attention to the intruder. Keeping to the narrow paving at the side of the house, he avoided making his presence known as he approached the shadowy figure who was now fumbling around at a window. Confident that there was no way the man would get in, Jeff took a step back, fully intending to take the sensible option, retreat and call for reinforcements.

Then the window began to slide open.

Launching himself at the man, Jeff pulled him backwards and swung him round, hoping that a well-aimed punch would bring him down. But although the blow was strong, catching the intruder in the stomach and making him double over, it didn't fell him, and before Jeff could follow it up, he took a punch of his own, a tooth-rattling blow that left him seeing stars. He dropped to the floor, though he didn't let go of his assailant, dragging him down on top of him.

Then the battle began in earnest, the pair grappling and trading blows in a desperate attempt to gain superiority. Jeff was regretting not calling for help, not that he could do so now, of course, not when every ounce of breath was needed to keep him going in the fight.

But Grandma's ears were sharp and even asleep she was alert to any danger her family might be in. The grunts and thuds woke her and she rushed to the window, snapping her light on, opening the casement and demanding to know what was going on.

The light was enough for Jeff to see the would-be-burglar's face.

"Virgil?"

Virgil let go of his father as though his hand been burnt, his raised fist dropping limply to his side. "Dad?" he panted, "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" Jeff had to gasp for air between each word. He hadn't been in a brawl like that since his Air Force days, though he was still fit and strong, despite spending his days at his desk. Where had Virgil learned to fight like that? "I thought I was stopping a burglar."

Virgil would have laughed if he'd had the energy - and if his jaw hadn't been throbbing so painfully. He'd never have believed his father could throw a punch like that and in spite of everything, he was impressed.

"Boys!" Only Grandma could put such fury into a whisper and Jeff flinched, knowing from that one word that he was in as much trouble as his son.

"Let's get back to the kitchen," he suggested.

There was no argument from Virgil.

Five minutes later father and son sat at the table, Virgil gingerly holding an ice pack to his jaw, whilst Jeff flinched as his mother dabbed at his bleeding nose.

"Welcome home, Jeff," she said, her tone far less friendly than the words would have suggested.

"Didn't expect that kind of a party," Jeff muttered. "Virgil, you still haven't told me why you were breaking in."

"I wasn't breaking in," Virgil said. "I forgot my key. I didn't want to disturb anyone and I knew the catch on that window was a bit loose, so I thought I'd try it before I woke someone up."

"Didn't you think it might be one of the boys?" Grandma asked.

"He didn't put the light on," Jeff protested.

"Bulb's gone," Virgil said. "Alan said he'd replace it."

Jeff shook his head in despair. Broken window catches and blown bulbs... So much for his big idea. How could he maintain a secret base when his own home was apparently falling apart? He'd have to get Brains round to sort the place out, he thought, since his sons were apparently incapable. How many Tracys did it take to change a lightbulb anyway?

"You could have said something," he complained.

"I couldn't!" Virgil protested. "You knocked the wind out of me with that first punch. I didn't have the breath to waste on talking, I was too busy trying to defend myself. Besides, I never expected to be attacked by my own father. Aren't there laws about that sort of thing?"

Grandma ruffled his hair affectionately before turning to glare at her son.

Feeling hard-done-by, Jeff went on the attack. "Why on earth were you out this late anyway?" he asked. "Isn't tomorrow a big day at the factory? I'd have expected you to take that a little more seriously, Virgil. You of all people should realise how important that prototype is."

"I didn't plan on getting back so late," Virgil told him. "The band played tonight but Dylan's van broke down on the way back. By the time I realised I couldn't fix it and we'd found another ride back it was past 1.30. Believe me, I'd have loved to have been home earlier - I'm starving." He looked ruefully at the plate which now held only crumbs. "That was the last slice, wasn't it Grandma?"

"Sorry, son," Jeff said. He meant it, too - in the Tracy family there was no greater crime than stealing another man's food. "I thought Mom had left a snack for me in case I got back early." He looked at his mother in surprise. "Was that really the last of the cake?"

"There's a chocolate cake in the pantry," Grandma told him before rounding on her grandson as he made to speak "No, Virgil, you can't have any now, it's for your father's homecoming. Go to bed. You've got to be up in four hours."

Grumbling, Virgil headed for the door.

"You too," Grandma said, her attempt at a glare turning into a smile as she gave her embarrassed son a hug.

Jeff caught Virgil up at the foot of the stairs. His son was staring into space. "I don't think even you can sleep standing up," he said. "Get to bed."

"Sorry, Dad. I was just thinking about Dylan's van. We need it for Saturday - the band's playing and without the van we can't transport all the gear."

"You can borrow a truck from the farm," Jeff suggested.

"Yeah, but then we're supposed to be starting our trip on Monday. Dylan's only got two weeks off. We'll have to rearrange everything if we can't get up and running by then. That's if Dyl can still afford to go after paying for the repairs. I offered to help out, but you know what he's like."

Jeff frowned. Virgil's friend was the son of the town's lawyer and although Dylan seemed set to follow in his father's footsteps with a place in the family firm ahead of him, he was as unlike his father in other ways as it was possible to be. Mr Walsh was a cold, distant man who insisted his son make his way in life without any help from him. Jeff didn't like him. He'd never believed in coddling his boys, but he'd never failed to help them out if they needed it, either. Whilst they'd all had to do their share of chores to earn their allowance, they'd never wanted for anything, be it grand pianos, telescopes or cars.

"What's the problem?" he asked, frowning when Virgil explained.

"I can fix it," the young man said, "So he won't have to pay a mechanic. But it's a tricky job and that part isn't easy to get hold of. Not round here, anyway. By the time it comes in we'll have lost at least a day, probably two."

"Would they have it in Kansas City?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, but when am I going to get down there? I've got a busy day at work tomorrow, remember?"

"Look," Jeff said. "You order the part - you can square things with Dylan later - and first thing Saturday morning I'll take Gordon out for a flying lesson. We'll pick up the package at the airport and you can work on the van on Sunday."

But Virgil didn't seem as pleased at this idea as Jeff had expected. "What's wrong?" the older man asked.

"I promised Grandma I'd play at her church social on Sunday."

Jeff slung an arm around his son's shoulders. "Tell you what, come along with me and Gordon. You can bring the whole engine unit with you and fit the new part on the way back. It'll be good for Gordon to have a passenger. Between you and me, he's not the most enthusiastic pilot. Maybe having his big brother on board will help him focus."

Virgil considered this. It would solve his problems, but on the other hand, he wasn't so sure he wanted to risk flying in a craft piloted by Gordon. If John was a menace on the roads, from what he'd heard, Gordon was matching his lack of ability up in the air. Still, his father would be there to take over if needed...

"Okay," he said. "Thanks, Dad."

Jeff smiled, then winced as the movement pulled on a bruise. He rubbed his face. "You surprised me," he admitted, studying Virgil closely and deciding that he had indeed bulked up since he'd last seen him. "I know you're not a little boy any more, but still..."

Virgil blushed a little. "I've been working out," he said. "Ready for... you know."

Jeff did know, as did Grandma, but Gordon and Alan were still unaware of the grand scheme the others were hatching. "I mean," Virgil continued, "I know we'll have Brains' machinery to do most of the work, but there might be times when a bit of brute force is needed. I want to be sure I'm up to it."

"Oh, you certainly are," Jeff said, clapping his son on the back then apologising as Virgil hissed in pain.

"Are you two still up?" Grandma's voice made them both jump. "If I'd known you weren't heading straight to bed, Jefferson, I'd have made you wash up the dishes you left."

"Night Dad!" Virgil shot up the stairs before Grandma could find something to tell him off about.

"Sorry, Mom," Jeff muttered and under the steely gaze of his tiny mother, the multi-billionaire, employer of thousands, winner of numerous business awards, highly-decorated pilot and fearless astronaut, trotted up to bed like a five-year-old.